


Capable Hands

by HurricaneHannah



Series: Hotspots [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Hotspot Stimulation, Hotspots, Interspecies Relationship(s), Medical Examination, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, Relationship(s), Sexual Content, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneHannah/pseuds/HurricaneHannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet learns that while he has the sensitive hands, Mikaela's hands are the ones that are magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capable Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **[originally posted on _Fanfiction & DeviantART_ on May 9th, 2014]**  
> \- Post 2007 film.  
> \- Transformers © Hasbro.

“Hey Ratchet, what are _hotspots_?”

The medic shifted his helm to his dark-haired assistant, Mikaela, who was obstructed by the screen on his console. He strode around the desk, stopping next to his chair. The screen was alit with a recent report detailing Ironhide’s injuries sustained during an encounter with the earth-bound Barricade solar cycles before.

Not moving his helm, his optic shifted in its ridge to watch her lean forward and squint. It was an unnecessary quirk – as Ratchet knew she had perfect visual input – he noticed she would perform whenever learning anything Cybertronion related.

Her dark eyes were focused on the enlarged section of Ironhide’s left arm and cannon, the Cybertronion symbols translating into human English.

“They are areas of our anatomy that are extremely sensitive to external stimuli.” His digit traced down Ironhide’s arm and shoulder. “If touched, they can cause unpleasant feelings, not unlike what you humans refer to as _ticklish_ and if handled roughly, can cause unbearable pain.” He lifted his digit and looked at her. “But if touched gently, it can cause a relaxing or soothing sensation.”

She straightened and swivelled to look at him. “And pleasure?”

“If handled by a mate, yes, immense pleasure can result.”

“So, every Autobot has one?”

A mild shrug lifted his left shoulder. “Naturally, some are quite obvious, such as Bumblebee’s doorwings, while others are more obscure,” he pointed to the arm onscreen, “such as the connecting wires of Ironhide’s cannons.

“What are yours?”

His finger hung in the air. It wasn’t an unusual question merely a natural escalation. So why did his spark unexpectedly pulse under his chestplates?

“My hands,” his outstretched digit curled back towards his servo and lowered them to her for a better look. “Their sensitivity allows me to better locate minute tears in seams and lines and small debris that have been lodge in circuitry.”

She gently stroked one of his finger tips and felt only a mild pressure, nothing unordinary. The pulse had simply been a small surge.

“Would it be alright if I practice touching your hands? I want to make sure that I don’t inadvertently cause any pain to you guys if I am helping you repair someone’s hotspot.”

He could detect a slight pigment change on her face but paid little attention when his scanner’s indicated nothing life-threatening.

It was a smart proposal. Even the smaller pressure of her mass could affect an Autobot’s hotspot.

“Very well.” He sat in the chair and placed one of his servos on the metal of the desk, spreading his fingers out. “You may proceed and I shall give you corrections when necessary.”

Smaller fingers, spread apart, came to almost rest onto his own, close enough to feel her natural body heat and softness of the flesh pad. The muscles in her arm were rigid, eyes hesitant.

His silver digit lifted off the desk to meet her palm but her fingers still did not curl. “Any pain that results is no fault of yours, Mikaela.” He projected reassurance through his naturally leveled voice. “I assure you that if any pain should result, I will inform you immediately.”

When her fingers curled into his digit, he rested the servo back into its previous position.

With a more confident and professional stride, he watched her walk around to the side of his hand and positioned her fingers over the protruding strut that connected his digits to his servo.

He patiently waited for the discomfort to come.

It never did.

Pleasant shocks ignited from his sensory nods and carried them to his central processing unit. A few more gentle and precise strokes had a relaxing effect on his frame.

Of their own accord, his shoulders sagged and the change in pressure hissed compressed air out his ventilation system.

An internal scanner silently beeped to indicate his internal temperature had risen half a degree. Not unusual as Mikaela was transferring her own body temperature to him.

Then his energy field activated. Highly unusual, but not conclusive of anything.

Now a full five-degree temperature spike. That should not happen.

Finally a violent surge flared in his spark, so intense he could feel the energy crackle through his inner circuitry. That most _definitely_ was not supposed to occur.

And it could only indicate one thing.

_Scrap._

A harsh _scraping_ sound echoed in the room as he slid his servo from under her care and off the desk.

“Ratchet,” her soft voice all but replaced her gentle touches and caused another surge of his spark energy. “Are you alright?”

“Ye-s-s.” The energy was now affecting his vocal modulator. He waited a few moments for the static of the latest surge to dissipate before continuing. “You have done excellent, Mikaela. I however, failed to recollect that I must attend to Ironhide to make sure his injury is mending properly.”

Struggling to get into a standing position, he stops when he hears her desperately scream, “Ratchet, wait, please.”

Her hand was outstretched towards him, eyes wide and reflective and full of so much concern, for him. That look compromised the struts in his legs into sitting back onto his seat.

The pulsing was becoming more frequent and his energy field was expanding. He would soon be past the point of no return.

She pulled her hand back towards her face, possibly trying to deviate from her teeth nibbling her lower lip. Another of her quirks he noticed that she preformed when worried.

He seemed to be noticing many things about her recently.

“Did I – hurt you?”

“I assure you, Mikaela, you have not caused me any pain.” _Quite the opposite in fact._

It wasn’t until he heard an exaggerated oh that he realized he had also said his thought out-loud.

He offlined his optics, the possibility at her aversion to him burned him like laser-fire.

“Ratch?”

The hesitant nickname caught him off guard and he onlined his optics so fast they crackled. Her stance was straight and rigid, but nothing in her eyes indicated disgust.

“How long has it been since you-“

“Overloaded?”

“Yeah.”

Shifting his helm slightly, more compressed air hissed from between his mouth plating. “Much too long.” He honestly didn’t think his processors knew exactly how long it had been.

“Then why make me stop.”

His processor stalled. What?

“Is it because,” she gestured down her body and Ratchet felt a shiver seep over his outer frame, “I’m human?”

She was his assistant, companion, charge, friend; but nothing but a human to him, never.

“No. To our race pleasure is nothing shameful. When Cybertron was lost and our numbers almost extinguished, it was not uncommon for Autobots to find pleasure with other sentient robotic or organic life forms.”

“If not ashamed then _why_?” Her voice was so desperate. If he didn’t give her an answer, he was worried she might break.

_Why? Because I want to so much._

“You are young.” He mentally cursed himself and Primus.

She preformed another one of her quirks; rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

“I’m not a virgin you know.”

His spark flared in response. 

“I did not mean to place doubt on your experience. What I mean is you have other options. By human standards you have an extremely attractive form and pleasant demeanor. You could have any human male to engage in sexual intimacy. Why would you choose and old, robotic organism such s myself?”

“Do you find my form appealing?”

Ratchet noted how she blatantly ignored his query but indulged her and himself at her request.

By human standards, her legs were long and slim and he could image them thrown around one of his digits as he vibrated her.

Tanned skin and dark hair, both soft and silky running across his smooth metal plating.

Eyes, dark and reflective. His internal temperature sky rocketed at just the thought of them closed in a thrashing orgasm.

His internal fans kicked into their first setting. 

“Very much so.”

“And yours is attractive to me.” He watched as her eyes roamed his frame. “I don’t see the problem?”

“You deserve someone who can bring you proper pleasure.” 

He stretched his hand in front of him. He was too big. She would never feel the full sensation of him inside of her, never be able to properly kiss her lips or body.

He was too absorbed into his servo that he didn’t realize Mikaela had moved, until he felt her feather-light softness. He looked down to her; she was on her toes, eyes on her fingernails that just barely grazed his metal.

“Silly, old ‘Bot,” her eyes found his optics, “you do please me.”

Without thought, his scanners activated and reported.

 **Temperature:** 99.6 degrees. Full degree spike with no indication of infection or external cause.  
**Heart Rate:** 90 beats per minute / **Blood Pressure:** 130 over 180 / **Breathing:** Deep and shallow. She had barely moved.  
**Hormone Level:** Increased rate of production. 

And then his olfactory picked up a sweet scent. _Oh, Primus._

His fans skipped two settings. He was past the point of no return.

“Are you certain?” He needed her to be positive but even then it was like the struts in his arm lost all cohesion and his servo slowly lowered to the desk.

A violent shiver shook him to his spark when he felt her nails scratch his servo and moaned, _“Yes.”_

Helm nodding, he positioned his servo underside up and digits spread.

“I am at your mercy.”

It was like her touch had never left. His frame quivered as she caressed his palm and working her way down and over its side. At different points she would increase or decrease the pressure, and at different points he would give her soft and loud moans.

“Ah—Mikaela.” He moaned when she began to caress the side of his digit. The digits of his other servo curled into the arm of the chair.

He could feel it; his fans were at their maximum, his energy field stretching to its furthest reaches, his core temperature so high that his metal was probably warm to her touch and spark pulsing so hard he thought it might explode.

He was so close.

And then her nails raking a pleasure-pain combination across the tip of his digit had him _there_.

**“MIKAELA!”**

All at once, everything snapped and exploded in violent sensations. His optics shorted and he swore he heard the distant snap of metal through his static-filled audios.

The energy of his spark cascaded through him violently a few more times before it stopped.

He then began to come down. His fans began to drop in settings, his energy field was dissipating, and the digits of his one servo uncurled, letting a piece of metal _clang_ to the floor.

He booted up his optics to look into her dark brown eyes and soothed the worry in them. “Thank you.”

A relived sigh parted her tight lips. “Anytime.”

A comfortable silence came with the only sound being his fans whirling to lower his core temperature. However, when they _clicked_ off, her low voice caressed his audios.

“Will you now tell me the real reason you hesitated?”

He internally sighed but shifted his frame closer to the desk, leveling his face as much as possible with hers.

“I was afraid.” He averted his optics to the wall and despite no obstruction, felt a lodge in his throat. “I _wanted_ you so much, more than I have any past lovers.” A gasp left her mouth but he continued. “And I was afraid you would be disgusted by it.”

_Disgusted by me._

“You silly, ‘Bot,” even though eyes were wide and shimmering with moisture, there was no denying the huskiness of her voice that sent pleasant aftershocks into his spark. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now normally in these types of human/autobot relations, or at least the ones I have read, it is usually the human who is concerned that the autobot being disgusted by the prospect of outer-species relations and I decided to flip that on its head.


End file.
